Shadowdance by Robin W Bailey Page B

not.
    Minarik also set his cup aside. "Then maybe we can be honest with each other," he said, settling himself more comfortably in his chair. "Tell me about the Witch of Shanalane."
    Innowen frowned. "Is that the price for kindness these days?" he dared. "Betrayal? I know why you were up all night. You were hunting for her."
    Minarik nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Innowen. "I, my soldiers, my servants, any man who could ride." He hesitated, then put on a wry grin. "Except Taelyn. He hates horses, so I left him here to coordinate incoming reports."
    "You didn't catch her, did you?"
    Minarik snorted. "Of course not. She's long gone from these parts. You and I know that, but it's tougher to convince Kyrin." He looked away suddenly and drew a slow breath. "I'm not asking you to betray her, Innocent. Just tell me about her—how she looked, what she did, what she said. Anything you feel comfortable talking about."
    Innowen regarded the man across from him, noting the change in Minarik's mood, Though he tried to disguise it, there was the subtle tension of a military man on the verge of gaining information. It was there in the way he leaned slightly forward in his chair while trying to appear relaxed, in the way he kept his hands unnaturally still. Innowen peered straight into his benefactor's eyes, wondering just how much he could trust Minarik.
    "She was beautiful," he began cautiously.
    The Lord of Whisperstone gave a barely perceptible nod.
    "She glowed with an ivory light," he went on. "It almost hurt my eyes. Her lips..." He stopped, picked up his winecup and took a drink. He held the liquid in his mouth for a long time.
    "Her lips?" Minarik pressed.
    Innowen swallowed. "Like a flower," he answered finally. "Like a rose."
    "She touched you?"
    Innowen thought back. "I think so. I don't know. Maybe, when she healed my legs." He took another drink, unmindful of the taste.
    Neither said anything after that, and Innowen grew slowly aware of the silence. He turned the cup nervously between his hands, stared at the ruby contents, and waited. Minarik sat with his eyes closed, his lips a thin, taut line.
    At last, his host spoke. "Dark-haired. Dark as the night." Minarik said it as if it were a fact.
    "Blond," Innowen contradicted.
    Minarik pursed his lips thoughtfully as he shook his head. "What about your legs? You say she healed you, and I believe that. I know she's a woman of great power. Yet, now you're—" He almost said crippled. Innowen saw his mouth start to form the hated word, but Minarik caught himself: "—incapacitated once more," he finished tactfully.
    Innowen leaned back in his chair and bit his lip. "She said 1 would be whole again, that I would walk." He gripped the arms of the chair suddenly until the muscles stood out on his arms. "She was half as good as her word. From sundown to dawn my legs are as good as any man's."
    "And with the sunrise," Minarik interrupted, "you are crippled once more." He didn't dodge the word that time.
    Innowen nodded.
    "But no less a man," Minarik added with great seriousness.
    Innowen shrugged, then bit his lip again and closed his eyes.
    As before, the silence grew between them. Innowen heard the rustle of the lord's crisp raiments and the sound of pouring wine as Minarik refilled his cup. The breeze whispered ever so lightly through the vines that grew on the gazebo. In the sky, a pair of birds fluttering over the courtyard called to each other, their song sweet and distant.
    "You think you love her, don't you?"
    The words cut the stillness and Innowen's heart like a fine bronze edge. He opened his eyes, and his gaze locked with Minarik's. "I know it," he answered firmly. "I can't help myself."
    Something flickered in Minarik's eyes. Innowen froze, held himself perfectly still, not daring to move for a long moment. Then, slowly he let out a breath. With a sudden insight, he understood the bond he shared with Whisperstone's lord.
    "You love her, too," he said gently. "She's the